


How to Seduce Baddies 101

by Bouncey



Series: Roll For Iniative [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Date Night, Domestic Fluff, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons & Dragons References, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Gift Giving, Jaskier Gets Spoiled, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Minor Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Motorcycles, Netflix and Chill, Pride and Prejudice References, Recreational Drug Use, Romantic Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Stoner!Jaskier, Talkative Geralt, The World's Smushiest Pillowtalk, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, blowjob, soft boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25406869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncey/pseuds/Bouncey
Summary: “Are you gonna roll to seduce this bastard, or what?” Triss asked.“Of course I am!”Jaskier kissed his sparkly twenty sided die and flung it down at the tabletop. It bounced and rolled for a moment before coming to rest with the shiny silver number 20 facing up. Of course.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Roll For Iniative [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824841
Comments: 41
Kudos: 232





	1. Con Save

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter One is nothing but fluff.
> 
> Chapter Two will be smutty.
> 
> Please enjoy!

“I’ve fucked myself into this mess,” Jaskier declared, picking up his D20. “And I’ll fuck myself out of it.”

“Ugh, Pumba, not in front of the kids,” Ciri groaned and jokingly covered her eyes with her hands. “Wait until _after_ the session.”

“Not my lovely Geralt, you doofus. I’m going to try and seduce the war camp’s evil leader. That way I can steal the map from his tent without us all having to plan some elaborate heist that will inevitably go to shit.”

“I guess that could work,” the youngest member of the party sighed. 

“Are you gonna roll to seduce this bastard, or what?” Triss asked.

“Of course I am!” 

Jaskier kissed his sparkly twenty sided die and flung it down at the tabletop. It bounced and rolled for a moment before coming to rest with the shiny silver number 20 facing up. Of course.

“Wow, what a surprise,” Triss deadpanned. “A natural twenty to fuck my NPC warlord.”

“I have a type, what can I say?” Jaskier said in his Dandelion voice. 

“Yeah and your type is everything that moves,” Geralt of Rivia responded. 

“Listen, boys,” Jenny interrupted. “I know you both have very important dates tonight, but try not to screw up the mission, okay? I want this reward.”

“We know, we know. The map to the ruins,” Dandelion sighed. “Go light something on fire or braid Fionna’s hair. I’ll get us the map.”

“I could kill you,” Jenny sticks out her tongue.

“Alright, so while Jenny goes to find Fionna and set up the bear traps and while Geralt mopes in his room upstairs, Dandelion makes his way back over to the creepy looking guy with the mustache at the bar,” Triss summarizes. “Dandelion, what do you want to do?”

“I recite a short but very naughty poem and then ask if I can see what his bed looks like.”

“Roll me two Performance checks. One for the song and one for the sex.”

“Damn. A twelve and a fifteen with modifiers.”

“Those are some bad rolls for a level eight bard,” Geralt teased. Jaskier gave his boyfriend a half-hearted whack on the chest with his limp hand. 

“Shut up.”

“He’s having an alright time but not a _great_ time.”

“Shit. I’d like to give him the world’s best blowjob,” Jaskier declared. “I gotta make this fucker fall asleep so I can steal the map.” 

“Alright, give me a Performance check and a Constitution Saving roll.”

“A _Con Save_?” Geralt asked. “For sucking dick?”

“He said _world’s best_ blowjob so I’m assuming that he’s going to do some really fucked up and weird shit.”

“I am.”

“See? Alright, what’d you roll?”

“Fuck yeah. I got a natural seventeen for the Performance and a twenty with modifiers for the Con Save.”

“Oh you suck that man’s dick within an inch of his life. He’s totally unconscious when you’re through with him. Not sleeping, I mean you literally knocked him out with the quality of your dick sucking talents. The Con Save succeeds as well so you don’t lose your voice or suffer any adverse consequences.”

“Adverse consequences?” Geralt questioned, his voice back to normal and out of character.

“Yeah. If I were to sleep with this guy and fail my Con Save then Fionna would get pregnant as a result,” Ciri explained. “Since Dandelion is a dude and can’t get knocked up, his potentially negative consequences would be rolling disadvantage on Performance checks for the next twenty-four in game hours.”

“That’s an excellent system,” the white-haired man smiled. “You’re a great DM, Triss.”

“I do try. Anyway, Dandelion, the warlord is snoring like a chainsaw and you’re free from his grasp. What do you want to do now?”

“I steal the map and take it to the girls!”

Jaskier, Yen, and Ciri high-fived while Geralt ran a hand over his face. “I guess I should probably go find the girls and see what they’re up to as well.”

“We’re setting up some bear traps.”

“I don’t understand the need for the bear traps,” Geralt said, out of character. “Are these for the unicorn? We already have the map so we don’t need to trade the horn with that crazy hermit anymore.”

“He’s right,” Yennefer sighed.

“Bear traps anyway?” Ciri suggested.

“Bear traps anyway.”

Jaskier walked Geralt to the door once the session had finished, gaze landing everywhere but on his boyfriend. “What’s wrong, Jas?”

“Nothing!” The younger man snapped out of his awkwardness, eyes finally meeting Geralt’s. “Nothing is _wrong_ per se, it’s just...you said you were going to have me over to your place soon. That was two and a half weeks ago. Is something wrong? Are we okay?”

“Oh. Of course we’re okay,” Geralt reassured him. “That’s definitely still on the table. I could whip up a romantic evening in a week, if that works for you. I don’t work next Sunday night so how about you come over then?”

“I don’t really have a car.”

“And the bus doesn’t run on Sundays.”

“Maybe another time,” Jaskier sighed. Geralt wrapped one of his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders and brought his other hand down to splay across the small of Jaskier’s back (something he’d discovered the younger man _really_ liked). He pulled their chests together and rested his forehead against Jaskier’s.

“I’ll pick you up at six. Don’t do anything special with your hair,” Geralt insisted. “The helmet will just mess it up anyway.”

“I get to ride the bike?” 

“Don’t tell the others,” Geralt winked. “They’ll get jealous.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Someday, if you’re very good, I might even teach you to ride Roach.”

“Will I have to use a side saddle like a proper lady?”

“You’d fall off that horse so fucking fast if you were in a side saddle,” Geralt chuckled. “Alright, darling. I gotta get some sleep before work tomorrow.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to you later, babe.”

“See you on Sunday?”

“See you then, handsome,” Jaskier agreed, leaning up to kiss Geralt on the lips. It was a soft and unhurried embrace, lasting as long as it took them to run out of air. “Drive safe and text me when you get home.”

“I will.”

“Good. Night, babe.”

“Night cutie.”

To say that Jaskier was nervous would be an incredible understatement. He’d changed at least four times and Ciri was growing more impatient with each passing outfit. “Jas, buddy,” she groaned from her spot on his bed. “The best combo is always going to be dark skinny jeans, one of your nice blouses, and your blue Doc Martens.”

“Which nice blouse goes best with my Docs, though?” he cried, digging through his enormous pile of clothes. Ciri got off the bed and shoved her panicking friend out of the way. She tossed him a pair of dark blue skinnies, a plain black belt, and a short-sleeved white button down shirt. Once he’d put everything on, Ciri tucked the shirt into the jeans and unhooked the top three buttons. 

“Perfect,” she decided. “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you like this.”

“You think so?” Jaskier twisted in front of the mirror, taking in every angle. Ciri was right. Geralt would probably love him like this. The pants showed off his butt just right, the shirt emphasized his slender waist and lightly muscled arms, and the way Ciri had opened it left a small tuft of his slowly returning chest hair peek out. “I’m so nervous.”

“You’re never this nervous before a date.”

It was a simple statement of fact. 

“This isn’t an ordinary date, Cirilla. I…” Jaskier bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair. “I think I’m in deep here. I think I love Geralt for _real_.”

“Tell him.”

“He’s so mature and elegant and sweet. I don’t want to scare him off by admitting my feelings too early. You know I fall head over heels for people easily when they’re nice to me.”

“You guys flirted for like two and a half months before finally making it official. And _since_ you’ve declared yourselves ‘boyfriends’,” she used air quotes around the word, “You haven’t even slept together. Or gone on a real date. This is an _important_ night, Jas. For both of you. I doubt Geralt is going the speed limit on his way over.”

“Fuck. He’d better be going the speed limit.”

“Damn, you do love him. This is special, huh Jas?”

“Very. This is,” he took a deep breath. “He might be the one.”

“ _The one?_ ”

“Yeah.”

There was a sharp knock at his door. “Your chariot awaits,” Yen called. 

Jaskier tied his shoelaces with shaky fingers and Ciri escorted him down the short hall to the kitchen. “Good luck,” she muttered, peeling off towards the living room. He jogged down the stairs and rounded the banister to face Geralt, who looked equally nervous. They looked each other up and down, taking in the effort. Geralt was in black boot-cut denim, a burgundy v-neck, and his usual leather riding jacket and boots. 

“Shit,” they said in unison. Geralt chuckled and Jaskier outright shouted with laughter. 

“I’ll go first,” he offered. “You look lovely, darling.”

“Thank you,” Geralt rumbled. “You look...really good.”

“I can work with that. So, shall we?”

“Yeah.” They exited the house and made their way across the parking lot to Geralt’s motorcycle. The white-haired man reached into one of his bike's leather side bags and pulled out a slim black box wrapped with a white ribbon. He handed it to Jaskier almost sheepishly. “I may have gotten you a present.”

“Geralt! I didn’t get you anything,” the younger man whined, gesturing towards his boyfriend with the surprisingly heavy box. “That’s not fair!”

“Well it was a matter of _safety_ and I may have picked up a few extra shifts last month out of boredom and, well,” he gestured nervously at nothing. “Just open it.”

“Fine.” Jaskier slowly untied the bow and pulled the ribbon free. He tried to remain calm as he lifted the edge of the box and peeled away the top layer of tissue paper. “Oh my _fucking_ gods, babe. You _didn’t_.” 

“Happy three week anniversary?” Geralt’s question came out as the manliest squeak Jaskier had ever heard. 

“This is amazing. It’s beautiful. How am I ever going to repay you?”

“It’s not something that needs repaying!” Geralt insisted. “It’s just for when you ride with me. I mean you can wear it whenever you want but it’s _supposed_ to be for safety and-”

Jaskier cut off his boyfriend’s rambling by pressing an insistent kiss to his lips. Geralt’s arms went around him instantly, pulling them tightly together. Everything he did with Jaskier seemed to be instinctual. His body knew exactly how the younger man liked to be touched and molded to his every unspoken whim. Eventually his slender boyfriend pulled away. “Mind helping me put it on?”

Geralt pulled the leather jacket from its box and held it up. The back of it was embroidered with heavy white patch letters that spelled out his name. Beneath the blocky 'JASKIER' was a seeding dandelion, the little white stems sticking out from the center in a perfect circle. Geralt had clearly put serious thought into this gift. Tears filtered into his vision and Jaskier blinked them away as he turned to slide his arms into the sleeves. “Do you like the design I picked? I didn’t know if it would be too much.”

“It’s perfect, really. Thank you so much. I love you.” 

The words hung in the air for a moment before Jaskier clapped a hand over his mouth, suddenly frightened. The shocked look on Geralt’s face did not bode well for him. He scrambled to think of a good enough apology. Something he could say that would make Geralt stop staring at him with his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. Something that would reassure his new boyfriend that he wasn’t crazy or overly clingy.

“I’m so sorry, Geralt. I know it’s early but-”

“I love you, too.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.” Geralt handed his flustered boyfriend a helmet. It was another statement of fact, nothing to be embarrassed over. “Let’s get going.”

Jaskier pulled the helmet over his head and let his boyfriend adjust the chinstrap for him. He settled onto the warm leather behind Geralt and wrapped his arms around the taller man’s waist. The rumble of Geralt’s voice against the stiff leather of his new jacket was a strange and wonderful sensation to experience. “Hold on tight, hot stuff.”

“Let me know if I cut off any blood flow or air supply.”

“Hmm.”

Then the Harley revved to life beneath them and Jaskier’s eyes snapped closed. They didn’t open again until Geralt was prying his boyfriend’s arms away from his waist in the driveway of a small cottage. Once his vision returned to normal Jaskier smiled brightly. “Oh, you have an actual house. A very small house, but a house nonetheless.”

“I rent this place from the school. It’s cheap and I only need one room, anyway.”

“It’s adorable!” Jaskier’s eyes lit up and he yanked the helmet from his head. The softly spiky way his hair was mussed made Geralt’s heart do somersaults in his chest. He’d never fallen for anyone so quickly or so definitively, but Jaskier made it impossible _not_ to love him. He wore his heart on his sleeve and didn’t keep secrets. Geralt admired those qualities. Not to mention he didn't treat Geralt's odd hair and eye colors like _kinks._ Sure, his boyfriend loved playing with his hair and braiding it when they hung out, but Jaskier would have behaved the same way regardless of its color. Geralt felt a sudden tug on his hand and looked down. “Shall we go inside?”

“Oh, yeah.”

He unlocked the front door and let the younger man slip inside first. The front door led directly into the laundry room/pantry behind the kitchen and Geralt slipped off his biker boots to place them on the mud-proof plastic mat. He didn’t like tracking dirt onto the tile flooring. Jaskier unlaced and delicately removed his Doc Martens, which were sparkly and baby blue just like his favorite dice. He also slid the leather jacket off and raised an eyebrow. “Where can I put this?”

“There’s a hook to your left.”

“Thanks.”

“This is the kitchen. The bathroom is through that door and my room is down the hall,” Geralt pointed as he explained. “I already ordered dinner, so that should be arriving any minute.”

“I thought you were going to cook for me?”

“Next time. I worked this morning so I just wanted to relax and spend some quality time with my boyfriend tonight. I have a movie picked out and everything. I fluffed my pillows.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you call me your boyfriend,” Jaskier sighed, leaning dramatically against Geralt’s side. The older man’s arm slipped around him automatically. “I'll never get tired of hearing you _period._ Yen used to make fun of me for getting excited when you spoke in class. Your voice is just so _wonderful,_ though. I can’t help it. I could listen to it all day and never get bored; have you considered doing audiobooks?”

“You’re already enough of a conversationalist for me,” Geralt shook his head. The messy bun he’d tossed his hair into was making Jaskier salivate. “I think I’d get worn out if I had to talk any more than I already do at school or during Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Speaking of which, sorry for fucking a warlord.”

“Shit happens. Your plan worked; we got the map.”

“The bard life is a hard life,” Jaskier smirked. His hand reached to squeeze Geralt's where it rested against his hip. “But it’s well worth it.”

“You’re insufferable,” Geralt decided. 

“And yet you love me.”

The taller man leaned to press their foreheads together. “And yet I do.”


	2. Performance Check

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the smutty one, y'all.
> 
> Fun fact: I was SUPER into 'Midsomer Murders' a year or so ago and watched almost every episode (I got less into it when the first DCI Barnaby left tbh) and I didn't even REALIZE that Henry Cavill was in it. "The Green Man". Good stuff.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

The two men leapt apart when Geralt’s doorbell rang unexpectedly. They let out breathless chuckles and Geralt went to answer it. He returned a minute or two later carrying a large paper bag with an unfamiliar restaurant logo on the side. “I hope you like Redanian food, I ordered it from my favorite place around the corner.”

“I’m from Redania, actually,” Jaskier beamed. Whatever Geralt had ordered for dinner smelled familiar. It smelled like home.

“Maybe I’m clairvoyant.”

“Maybe it’s fate.”

Geralt looked up from rummaging in a kitchen drawer. “Where in Redania are you from?” 

“Have you ever been to Lettenhove?”

“Yeah,” Geralt nodded, pulling a series of plastic containers from the bag and lining them up on the counter. “I toured the old Pankratz family castle there once as an undergraduate student. We spent a night in the old catacombs and did some bone cataloging.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that program. I think the college canceled it last year. Damn shame, too. It was a lovely way to get those old graves sorted and dealt with. You guys must have identified like two hundred bodies over the years.”

“How do you know so much about those catacombs?”

“Nice to meet you, Geralt _whatever your real last name is_ ,” the younger man joked, holding out his hand. The shit-eating grin on his face only grew wider with each and every word. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your service. My friends call me Jaskier.”

“You little shit.”

“Sorry,” he apologized sincerely. Geralt wasn’t angry in the slightest, but he painted a mild frown onto his face for the drama of it all. His boyfriend wasn’t biting. Instead, Jaskier closely inspected his cuticles and continued to speak, “I may be paying the majority of my friends’ rent with Daddy’s money.”

“And here I am, a graduate student working thirty hours a week, buying  _ your  _ lazy ass this fancy takeout. I’m offended that you’d take advantage of me like that.”

“My darling,” the brunette pouted, sidling up to Geralt and placing a delicate hand on his broad shoulder. “I’m very sorry that I misbehaved and lied by omission. Let me make it up to you.”

He pulled two rather large blunts from his shirt pocket and set them on the counter next to the food. Geralt raised his eyebrows. “I’m not allowed to smoke in here.”

“Do you have an empty paper towel roll and a t-shirt you don’t mind smelling funny for a few hours?”

“Yes?”

“Then our problems are solved, my _innocent_ sweet summer child. Let us partake in these dark pagan herbs and feast like heathens on the food of my people,” Jaskier declared, gesturing wildly. Geralt barely held back a chuckle at his boyfriend's antics. 

“Alright, Little Lord Dumbass,” he smirked. “Plate or bowl?”

“Bowl! That’s the way it’s meant to be eaten.”

“I do love a cultural anthropology lesson over dinner and joints.”

“Just call me Professor Pankratz.”

“I absolutely will not.”

“Which movie did you pick out?” Jaskier asked, accepting the bowl of food that Geralt slid in his direction. He also took the t-shirt and paper towel roll his boyfriend fetched from the bedroom, fashioning a quick sploof to blow their smoke into. When he was finished with his little craft, he lit one of the blunts and took a long, slow drag. “Something cute, I hope?”

“Well duh,” his boyfriend scoffed, watching Jaskier blow his smoke into the shirt/tube combo. Nothing came out the other side and the scent of burning cannabis didn't spread at all. With his worry over the smell seemingly neutralized, Geralt accepted the contraption and the joint from Jaskier, taking his time to do a French inhale. The brunette man muttered  _ showoff  _ but Geralt ignored him. “It’s a  _ date.  _ Of course I’m going to pick out a cute movie.”

“Some guys try to make me watch horror flicks because they think I’ll get all scared and try to cuddle them. I don’t like scary movies much so I usually just leave instead.”

Jaskier took the blunt back, took a lazy pull, and tapped the ash into the sink. He rinsed it down the drain immediately and shot an apologetic glance in Geralt's direction. The white-haired man merely shrugged. At least cleanup had been easy.

Geralt took it back and finished it off. “Horror as a genre makes sense to me but I rarely indulge in it. Why would I want to watch people get hurt on purpose?”

“You get it!” Jaskier crowed. The first joint had been small and they'd destroyed it rather quickly during the course of their brief conversation. Jaskier set the second one aside for later. Or perhaps for the morning, depending on his luck. “Are we allowed to eat in the living room?”

“Yeah. We can get the movie started while we have dinner. Would you like some wine, too?”

“Will you be able to drive me home if we drink?”

“We just got insanely high, Jask. I know it hasn't really set in yet but that weed is about to kick my ass. My tolerance is already wacky enough; now you expect me to drive you home straight after the film? I’ll need a nap either way, so we might as well indulge.”

“I was just asking, jeez. I don’t want to overstay my welcome and become inconvenient.”

"What if we did away with the idea of you leaving altogether?” Geralt asked. The question was an honest one, asked without any joking tone or goofy grin. Geralt wanted to know if Jaskier was staying the night. 

The younger man's mouth went sandpaper dry and he blinked slowly, like he was staring into the sun. This is exactly what he'd wanted, but he also wanted it to be a sincere love connection and not a situation where Geralt catered to his unruly younger boyfriend's overzealous whims. He offered the white-haired man one last out:  “I didn’t bring any pajamas.”

“I’m sure I can find a shirt somewhere that will fit you. I can take the couch, too. I’m a gentleman.”

“You can’t just offer to let me stay here and then withhold the offer of spooning, Geralt,” Jaskier huffed, putting a hand over his heart in overacted offense. They clearly both wanted this _very_ badly. He could accept that and roll with things. “They are practically one in the same and I _demand_ to be the big spoon.”

“Never been the little spoon before,” Geralt shrugged. “Might be fun. I suppose I could oblige just this once, since you’re a guest.”

“How very kind,” Jaskier deadpanned, turning and taking his bowl into the living room. “Come along, my love. I don’t know how to work your television.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt grabbed a bottle of bubbly peach-flavored Moscato from the fridge, tucked a corkscrew into his pocket, and followed his boyfriend into the living room. He set the wine down and returned to the kitchen to fix his own bowl of food.

Geralt had planned an excellent night for the two of them and that was _before_ the added bonus of Jaskier's secret stash. He genuinely  _ cared  _ about how Jaskier would react to his choices in food and entertainment. He’d spent all morning cleaning up his random projects around the cottage and five full minutes in the delicatessen's enormous liquor aisle agonizing over which wines to stock his fridge with. He even had a case of assorted craft beers tucked in the garage in case Jaskier had rejected the idea of wine. 

This was the first date he'd been on in seven years that wasn’t purely casual. It was the first date he’d _ever_ hosted in his living room. The experience of being known by another person on such an intimate level was a rush. 

Geralt settled himself on the couch with his food and Jaskier immediately sank against his side. The older man smiled. “You’re like a barnacle.”

“Thanks. You are _also_ very beautiful, intelligent, and sweet. Not at all like a gross little sea creature that clings to boats.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt grabbed his universal remote and turned on the TV and DVD player. He pulled up the movie’s opening menu and bit his lip when Jaskier audibly gasped. “Geralt, you big softy!”

“It’s one of my favorites,” the older man shrugged. “Couldn’t help myself. I hope you don’t mind my decision.”

“Don’t mind? I can practically recite the entire thing from start to finish. Maybe even backwards! I’ve probably watched this a thousand times.”

“Well then,” Geralt smiled, pressing play. “I hope you still enjoy it the thousand-and-first time.”

He pulled the corkscrew from his back pocket and used it to open the bottle of wine. Then he plopped it down on the coffee table between them and settled back into the couch with his bowl and his fork. Jaskier gave him a curious glance, “No glasses?”

“I figured we’d probably just finish the bottle anyway. Might as well save the stemware.”

“I like your style, darling.”

Soft piano music filtered out from the TV and Jaskier turned his eager gaze towards the screen. Kiera Knightly closed her book and sighed before the image switched to a long-distance shot of her crossing a bridge. Geralt muttered between bites, “I liked Northanger Abbey more from a reader's perspective but _Pride and Prejudice_ has the best movie adaptations.”

“Shut up. I’m going to die if you keep revealing all these amazingly perfect facts about yourself. Next thing I know you’ll be saying that Colin Firth was also  _ your _ sexual awakening.”

“He was half of it.”

“The other half?”

“Sarah Michelle Gellar.”

Jaskier let out a high giggle and had to cover his mouth to keep food from coming out. He swallowed quickly and shot his boyfriend a goofy grin, “Oh my god. I cannot _believe_ you.”

“I really liked  _ Buffy,  _ okay?” Geralt fake-huffed, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth. He didn't bother covering his mouth when he spoke. “Team Spike all the way.”

“I have feelings and opinions about that statement but I’ll save them for later.”

“Shut up, you’re missing the movie.”

“You’re blushing!” Jaskier declared triumphantly. He leaned up to press a soft kiss against Geralt’s warm cheek. “I’ll be quiet so we can enjoy the movie, now.”

“Flirt.”

“You knew that when you married me.”

“Haven’t married you yet, bard.”

“ _ Yet,  _ Geralt.  _ Yet. _ ” 

“If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever. If, however, your feelings  _ have _ changed, I will have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love--I love--I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.” 

Jaskier listened with rapt attention as Geralt absentmindedly mumbled the lines alongside Matthew Macfadyen and bit his lip to keep from squealing in adoration.  _ He’s so fucking perfect. Quoting Shakespeare so offhandedly, knowing ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by heart...fucking hells I  _ have  _ to marry this man and have his babies. There's simply no other option. Give me Geralt or give me death, I suppose.  _

“You’re fantastic.”

“Hmm?”

Jaskier took a long sip of wine from the bottle before repeating himself. “You’re fantastic.”

“I’ve never really been called that before,” Geralt smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. And I do mean any time. Call me at three in the morning, I’ll still tell you that you’re fantastic.”

“When you’re done cussing me out?”

“Of course. I’m not an animal.”

“Wouldn’t dream of suggesting that you were.”

“Smart man,” Jaskier teased. The credits started rolling shortly after that and Jaskier leaned even more heavily against his boyfriend’s side. “Ugh, I’ve grown weary. Take me to bed and snuggle me a bit?”

“I suppose we could discuss some kind of snuggling arrangement.” Geralt stood from the couch and scooped Jaskier into his arms in one easy movement. The younger man’s arms went around his neck and he adjusted Jaskier’s weight until they were both comfortable. The empty bowls and wine bottle were forgotten on the table; Geralt could take care of them in the morning. More important things required his attention now. Like Jaskier.

“I can’t  _ wait  _ to raid your closet for a sleep shirt. I’m never giving it back, you know.”

“I know.”

“Gods, you’re amazing. I love you  _ so much,  _ Geralt. It’s not fair, really. You’re too perfect to be legal.”

“Hush.”

“I cannot! You’re magnificent! You’re kind-hearted, compassionate, good with animals and Ciri, nerdy as all hell,” Jaskier threw one of his hands up in mock surrender. “You have a body that was probably carved from marble and imbued with life by the ancient gods. There’s nothing I can do but pledge myself to your service forever and hope it doesn’t end badly.”

“You really are a bard, huh?” 

“I can’t shut the fuck up, if that’s what you mean.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt deposited his boyfriend in the center of his modest bedroom/office and helped him maintain a standing position. Jaskier’s eyes were taking in every detail and the older man had to keep himself from wringing his hands in anxiety. What if it wasn’t good enough? What if Jaskier hated it? What if he didn’t want to stay after all?

Jaskier, meanwhile, was utterly enchanted. Geralt’s queen size bed was neatly made and tucked into one corner. There was a small wooden table with a lamp on the side of the mattress that wasn’t against the wall. He'd built a  _ nest  _ of pillows against the headboard that Jaskier couldn't wait to snuggle up in. Geralt's impressive oak desk was up against the opposite wall, in front of the window. The walls of this room were painted a drab cranberry-red and the floral curtains looked like something out of an episode of _‘Midsomer Murders’_. “I  _ love  _ your bedspread and the bed itself looks very comfortable, but your window dressings are hideous, babe.”

“They came with the cottage,” Geralt shrugged. “Can’t change them or the college will charge me a fine.”

“The designer should be charged with crimes against humanity,” Jaskier cringed. “How am I supposed to suck your dick with those horrible things looking at me?”

“What?”

“I  _ said  _ ‘How am I supposed to suck your dick with those horrible things looking at me?’”

“No, I heard you. I just...I wasn’t expecting you to do that, you know? Is this because of the jacket? You really don’t have to-”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” the younger man interrupted. “And it certainly isn’t because of the jacket. I was ready for this well before the jacket. Fuck, I probably would have done this in the bushes after our first night of class if you'd asked me to. But yes, this ass and this mouth are definitely on the table if you’d like to get a little physical with me tonight.”

“Fuck, babe.”

“That was the idea, yes.”

One of Geralt’s hands flew to grasp Jaskier’s hip, the other spread and flexed against his lower back  _ just  _ how the younger man liked _.  _ “You’re so  _ infuriatingly  _ perfect,” he growled. “I didn’t know being with someone could even _feel_ like this.”

“It’s almost overwhelming sometimes. Just this week I looked back across the classroom and saw you sitting there and nearly burst into tears all over my notebook. You're just so incredible _._ ”

Geralt’s mouth found its way down Jaskier’s throat inch by inch, driving the younger man crazy with each gentle drag of those wet lips against his skin. He tugged at the bottom hem of Geralt’s t-shirt and his boyfriend stepped back to remove it. Jaskier had to stop and stare once the burgundy v-neck was out of the way, blue eyes practically popping out of his head at the sight of Geralt’s torso. He hadn’t thought that the older man could get any more attractive but he was being proven wrong yet again. He was  _ magnificent.  _ Chiseled muscle and strong angles from his jawline to his waistband. And what a mouthwatering V there was above that waistband...It just wasn’t fucking  _ fair.  _

“Oh my gods, I’m going to die.”

The older man only blushed and glanced away, unsure of what to do now. Jaskier was still staring at his chest with a dazed expression and Geralt's hands were hanging uselessly at his sides, itching for something to touch. “Jas...Wanna make out?"

“ _ Do  _ I?” 

“Hmm.”

“Uh, _yeah_.” 

The hand at Jaskier’s hip spread out to encompass part of his ass and  _ squeezed.  _ Geralt’s mouth was pushing against Jaskier's again, moving softly and so  _ very  _ insistently. No tongue, no grasping or pulling, just connecting and  _ feeling  _ each other. It was amazing. Jaskier’s arms twined around Geralt’s waist and pulled him even closer; he reveled in the sensation of touching the other man’s pale skin with his calloused fingertips. He pretended not to notice the way his boyfriend shuddered against him when those fingertips found a sensitive or ticklish spot on his sides.

“I’m going to turn on the lamp and close the shades,” Geralt decided, stepping away and releasing Jaskier from his grip. “I don’t want the neighbors watching us get fresh with each other.”

“Did you just say  _ get fresh  _ in the year of our lord 1356?”

“Hmm.”

The younger man let his arms fall against his sides and watched, almost hypnotized, as Geralt moved through the room. He turned on the bedside lamp, closed those gods-forsaken floral curtains until there wasn't any glass to be seen, and flipped off the harsh ceiling light. “That’s much more romantic,” Jaskier noted. He’d been watching the muscles of Geralt’s back and shoulders shift in the lowered light of the room and Jaskier found himself slightly startled when his boyfriend was suddenly very close once again, leaning into his space. 

“See something you like?”

“I’d like to be seeing more of it, honestly,” Jaskier stated, nodding his head so emphatically that his hair bounced into his eyes. He swiped it back and stared up at Geralt with joyful determination. “Although I feel slightly overdressed, myself.”

“Then take something off. Not my fault you're slow, bard.”

“Don’t be a smart-aleck,” Jaskier chided, unbuttoning his white shirt and pulling the hem loose from his pants. He let it drop the floor unceremoniously and looked back up at Geralt, who was taking his own turn to stare. 

He knew that Jaskier was hot, they’d slept together on Halloween night, but Jaskier had woken up long before him and gotten dressed much too quickly. He’d barely seen anything of the younger man's body at all. 

The brunette was  _ lovely.  _ His hips were slender and his shoulders were somehow both softly sloping _and_ muscular. He hadn’t been expecting that. “What’s wrong?” Jaskier suddenly asked, crossing his arms over his stomach and lowering his gaze to the floor. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Your eyebrows are all scrunched together and you look...confused. I’m sorry if I’m not as small as you expected. I do a lot of physical activity at my job and-”

“You’re hot.”

“Wha?” Jaskier couldn’t even get the whole word out. He was in shock.  _ This  _ absolute hunk of Grade-A beef was calling  _ his  _ lanky ass  _ hot _ ? Impossible. Inconceivable. Irrational. 

“You’re. Hot.” Each word was from Geralt's mouth punctuated by a kiss to Jaskier's reddened cheeks. The white-haired man looped an arm around Jaskier's hips and pulled him forward until their bare chests were pressed together. “And I’d really like it if we got a little more naked and perhaps got under the covers.”

“I am not opposed.” They shucked off their pants and Jaskier scooted himself under the covers and back against the wall, on the far side of the mattress. “You sure do have a lot of pillows.”

“It’s comfortable that way.”

“I agree.”

Geralt sat with his back against the world's fluffiest version of the Iron Throne and pulled Jaskier to straddle his hips. “Comfy?”

“A little lumpy,” Jaskier teased, wriggling his pelvis so the friction of their sliding boxers teased the shaft of Geralt's cock. “But yeah, it’ll suffice.”

“Darling,” Geralt groaned through clenched teeth. “You’re awful.”

“Well  _ yeah, _ ” the younger man giggled. Geralt wanted to bottle the sound and keep it with him forever. “May I have your enthusiastic verbal consent to show you  _ exactly  _ what I did to Triss’s warlord?”

“Didn’t you knock him unconscious with a blowjob?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need to make a Performance check first? Maybe a Con Save?”

“Do I need to?” Jaskier quirked a curious eyebrow. They probably should have had this conversation beforehand. Geralt shook his head, thank fuck.

“No, I’m clean.”

“Me too. Obviously. Wouldn't have let myself get this far if I wasn’t.”

“Of course,” Geralt agreed with a firm nod. Consent and sexual safety established, Jaskier swung himself off his boyfriend’s lap and reached to push those glorious thighs slightly apart. Geralt watched with wide eyes as Jaskier settled between his spread legs, kneeling cutely like he wasn’t about to absolutely  _ ruin  _ every other person on the Continent for the sexy white-haired man beneath him. Oh, no. Geralt would be dreaming of this night for  _ weeks  _ if Jaskier had anything to say about it. Which he did. Many things, in fact.

But, in the words of his favorite creative writing professor, ' _Show, don't tell.'_

Jaskier bent over and slid Geralt's boxers free from his hips. He slid them down Geralt's long, gorgeous legs and tossed them off the side of the bed. His blue eyes were sparkling with excitement and mirth as he gazed up through his eyelashes at his boyfriend and licked his lips. “Damn, that’s absolutely statuesque.”

He lowered his mouth over the entire length in one go and _swallowed._

Geralt had to focus incredibly hard on  not  coming immediately. 

Jaskier’s tongue was not only good for talking them out of bad D&D situations. Apparently, he also happened to be incredibly talented when it came to fellatio. The muscles in Geralt’s thick legs tightened around Jaskier’s head and he  _ felt  _ more than  _ heard  _ his boyfriend’s chuckle in response. The back of his head thudded dully against the headboard, body close to overwhelmed with the sensations. It had been a  _ really  _ long time since anyone had done this with him. Or _to_ __ him.

One of his hands tangled in Jaskier’s soft brown hair. He gasped between heavy breaths, “You’re incredible.”

Jaskier pulled his lips away from Geralt with a disgusting slurping sound and winked. “You’re not unconscious yet, so I can’t be that good.”

“I’m trying not to embarrass myself,” the older man admitted. “But you’re very close killing me.”

The younger man dragged the very tip of his tongue slowly up Geralt’s cock and kissed the tip. He gave a short monologue while lazily stroking his boyfriend with one hand. The other was being used to gesticulate, “I want to see what you look like when you fall apart. You’re so serious in class. You’re so grim during Dungeons and Dragons. I want to know what it’ll be like when it’s  _ just us  _ and I'm making you feel good.”

“You make me feel like a living god every time you text me,” Geralt whined. “But this is also good. Really good.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier grinned. He slammed Geralt's cock down his lax throat again in one swift movement and watched as his boyfriend's spine jerked straight. 

“Jaskier I’m-” he couldn’t finish the end of the sentence. Any ability to speak real words in Common was ripped from Geralt as Jaskier swirled his tongue so  _ artfully  _ that it broke the white-haired man’s control entirely. His hips stuttered upwards and his eyes rolled back into his head as he came down Jaskier’s talented throat. 

The younger man was watching with rapt attention as his darling boyfriend fell apart under his ministrations. The sound that issued forth from Geralt’s mouth was beautiful; a landing somewhere between a moan and a sigh. Jaskier had never been heard a more perfect sex noise. 

Fuck that, he'd never been _happier_ , even as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and sat back up, his own boner still proudly tenting the front of his boxers. He’d gotten to watch Geralt dissolve beneath him. That was certainly enough to be satisfying. 

"What about you?"

"You're welcome to give me a lazy handjob but most I'd like to snuggle."

"I can definitely do that."

Geralt woke up first this time. He skimmed his hand down the slope of Jaskier's bony spine, feeling each bump with his fingertips as he went. The mop of brown hair was still resting against his chest and he could feel his boyfriend's drool drying on his skin. It should probably gross him out that Jaskier was drooling on him, but he really couldn't be bothered at that particular moment.

Everything was still and quiet and soft. So incredibly warm. So _peaceful._ He hadn't felt so centered and contented in _years._ "I really do love you," the older man murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of his boyfriend's sleeping head. "And yeah, it might still be less than a month since we officially started dating, but sure. I could marry your dumb ass. It would probably be the end of me, but I'd do it."

"If I didn't know you were bisexual, I'd say that was pretty fucking gay of you to say."

"Hey! When did you wake up?"

"When you smooched me," Jaskier gave him a lazy, half-asleep smirk.

"Sorry for bothering you with my nonsense. Go back to sleep."

"It's not nonsense, it's a proposal. And I accept. Come back to sleep with me, Geralt."

Jaskier rolled over and let Geralt have a turn as the big spoon. He couldn't be mad about having such a strong, well-muscled arm wrapped around his stomach, holding him close and protecting him; they drifted back to sleep still wrapped up in each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Carry Your Marks pt. 7 coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feel like what I imagine cats feel when they lay in a sunbeam. Please be my sunbeam (even if it's just emojis, I love them all).


End file.
